Pursuing methodic footsteps of acquiescence:
Foot to asphalt, repetition, again.
Conformity of inanimate things.
Rhythmic, a beat I made for your pleasure
For the rapture of your kind silhouette.
Your breath of dark constricting my peripheral veins
Tempting my eyes to suppress the sun
And see the sinuous stain of your form.
Lithe, yet distorted by the fragments of pilfered light
I could never befriend the eyes of you.

And the life of you was always ephemeral
As you descended with and surrendered to dusk
To the depths of this earth, past the horizon's limitation, with the sun.
But it was at night that I required your shade,
When the moon befell vagrancy in the household of me.
The phone lines obliterated by the rage of authority
The small of my back beholding a tattoo that conviction
stained.
Forever on the skin of me, and never behind
Like you always were.
And oh, shadow, how you made me desire your presence,
How your apparition would comfort me
as I inadvertently would kiss the carpet.

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